Darker than Light
by Knight of The Wind
Summary: The one to take away the darkness is the one who must bear it. After watching most of most of his loved ones die -and killing the last one himself- Spiderman became less than a shallow reflection of who he used to be. The Symbiote's barely keeping him alive, and slowly leeching what's left. Peter needs to be saved from the darkness he's become. But he has no one left - so who will?
1. Great Power

'_This city never sleeps.._'

Tucking into a roll and jumping off the roof a building, Spiderman flicked his wrist in the oh-so-familiar movement of web-slinging. He thrust his legs out, adding to both his speed and momentum as he felt himself rise up, waiting for the peak of the swing before letting go of the dark web. His body was thrown upwards, followed by a graceful backflip. Once facing forward again, Spiderman kicked his legs out to either side of him and shot another string of webbing in between them, pulling roughly and launching himself forward, running on the side of the Daily Bugle's central building for good measure. He pushed off the edge and rocketed up, towards the impossibly distant silver moon.

The pearly Luna was such an extreme contrast to the young mutant, outfitted with an entirely black costume, it sent a pang through him. But the silver spider on his chest served as a reminder of there still being hope in the world, good things and good people.

Peter's ranting had taken him longer than he'd thought. He suddenly found himself perched at the top of the Empire State building, city still wide-awake with its twinkling lights and, from up where he was, faint noises. He sighed deeply, as the thoughts he pushed away at day once again entered his mind.

Dead.

All of them.

Dead.

Mary Jane, Harry, Gwen, Aunt May.

All of them dead. Killed.

And the people who did it... They were all dead as well.

Spiderman had just rejected the Symbiote...

... It's about time I got rid of you" Peter said, landing on the church tower. He had to admit, having the sticky alien had saved him countless times in their short time together, but it had come at a cost. And Peter was not willing to go that far. Ever.

Another thing he had to admit, was his hesitance to take the suit off. So much power... Of course it was tempting. Maybe, he could work out a way to-

"Snap out of it, Parker!" he hissed at himself, and before he could register anything he else, he grabbed the black mask and tore at it.

Truth be told, Peter was surprised. It came off quite easily. Startled, he looked at the mask. It was in his hands, the whole piece, as if he'd just removed it for a breather. "Huh.." Peter pondered.

And _then _it sprouted tentacles and stuck to his face. Even as Spiderman cried out in surprise, he noticed the rest of the Symbiote suit tighten around him, the whole substance joining together, sewing itself taught against its host. No, after all that struggle alone, and after finally finding the troubled teenager who needed it... No, it would not let go.

'_We can be greatly powerful!_'it screeched in Peter's mind. It shaped itself into the image of Spiderman, facing a determined-looking Peter.

"I'm aware of that. But I'm not interested," he grinned, donning his traditional Spiderman costume. The Symbiote growled and threw itself at the boy, attacking all the well-known weak spots, lunging for the openings in Spiderman's stance it knew would be there. Peter was having a hard time keeping up, and stumbled back. His eyes were wide in fear as the Symbiote immediately jumped on him, hands around his throat.

"_You don't know what you're doing... But we do_" and black tentacles covered his vision.

Outside, back to the church tower, Spiderman was thrashing about, his body convulsing as the internal struggle for external control raged on. Hands clawing at the sides of his head, he screamed a guttural scream as he bashed his head against the church's bell.

Another, equally- if not more- guttural scream left him as the sound of said bell reverberated against the inside of the bell, against his body, throughout the city, and most importantly - in his ears. The scream became more and more inhumane as the Symbiote rose from Peter's body in agony, voicing its pain by its lonesome. Almost as quickly as it happened, the alien began coming back, cursing itself for that damn weakness and for having shown it.

But Peter had already caught on, and proceeded to ram himself into the bell repeatedly, insanely. It hurt, yes -like hell-, but he was tearing off the Symbiote with relative ease. As well as a shit-ton of pain, but what're you gonna do. Can't win 'em all.

With a last tug, Peter freed himself from the hate-consuming alien, and in his weariness, paid no heed to what became of it, rather focusing on getting his naked self home...

... _Oh, Peter_' he smiled sadly, as he thought back to the past, looking down at his black-gloved hand and slowly making a fist, ' _What a terrible mistake you made, friend_"

He'd gone home and all but passed out on his bed, regaining consciousness almost twelve hours later. That was when he realized that he'd left the Symbiote to its own affairs and, after a quick washing of the ol' red and blue, returned to the tower. As expected, it wasn't there. Then Venom showed up.

But he wasn't alone. And it wasn't an ally he had…

... Hostage, Parker! Think you can save her?" Venom taunted as he held Mary Jane by her throat, body over the street. They were on a tall building that would be a pain to crawl up, so Peter quickly decided he'd have to zip there.

"Look, Venom" Spiderman addressed the creature by the alias it had given itself, trying to buy himself time. The were another two hostages wearing black hoods over their faces by the Symbiote's feet, and he had to save them too, "I just wan-"

Venom let Mary Jane go. No, he didn't just let her go, he threw her down hard.

For a second, Peter felt all the air in his lungs leave him and he just watched in disbelief. But it passed quickly.

"Mary Jane!" Spiderman roared, immediately launching himself towards the screaming girl with terrified eyes. There were three things Peter could hear: MJ's desperate cries, his own heart... And Venom's vicious laughter. A cruel, bestial sound from above him. Once within range, Spiderman webbed Mary Jane and pulled her to him as he continued nearing. Their bodies collided at the midway point and they began tumbling down.

"You're ok! You're safe, it's fine!" Spiderman shouted over the wind around them. He had her, he had her!

The girl in his arms gaped at him for a moment, then-

"Spiderman! Oh my God, thank you so much I thought I was going to di-"

She stopped suddenly. Her eyes were wide, mouth hung open and body limp. Peter felt something warm on his mask, but ignored it in favor of understanding what had happened. Her body starting resisting the fall, and when he let go, it hung in the air as he continued to descend. That's when he saw it.

A thick, dark tentacle covered in crimson sprouting out of Mary Jane's abdomen.

The warmth on his face was blood.

Blood.

Mary Jane's blood.

Mary Jane was dead.

Killed.

Spiderman fell further into the city, watching as Mary Jane's form became smaller and smaller. Time seemed to slow. As if it wanted him to soak this moment in. It was more like a flame that burnt it into his mind. His memory. Forever.

He may have screamed, then.

Things started moving again. And actually, they were starting to speed up. Spiderman swung back up, forcing his eyes away from the dead girl and focusing them on the cackling monster, who held the other hostages' heads. Peter felt the hatred building up within him, like acid tearing him apart. Tears welled up, but none fell. None would fall, it seemed.

Venom removed the bags. The hostages were revealed.

The tears fell, then.

"You..." Peter was trembling with rage, " You _fucking_ _monster_!" he bellowed savagely. Before he knew what was happening, he had thrown himself to the Symbiote, dead set on keeping him away from Gwen and Aunt May. He had to save them.

They were screaming something at him. Their eyes were scared beyond description. Their screams held words to them, they were trying frantically to tell him something. But he was so far away, and Venom was still laughing about something, and that damn beeping sound was so loud.

Beeping?

It hit him. A second too late.

"NO!"

However, he knew it was futile. He saw their faces one last time, their battered hair and untidy clothes, and the wired metal strapped to them.

And one last blink from a red light.

The sound of the explosion was deafening. It sent a high-pitched squeal through his ears, shook his bones. But most of all, the blast was a depiction. A depiction of something happening to Spiderman, to Peter Parker.

Something in him snapped. Broke. Shattered. Part of it was his heart. No,all of it was.

Spiderman grabbed Venom by the head and tossed him onto a roof. Venom screamed and lashed out with a tentacle, but right as it was about to make contact with Peter, it squirmed and retreated, for whatever reason that Peter couldn't be bothered to think of. Venom hit the concrete roof roughly, but stood quickly enough to dodge a bone-shattering punch. The creature then grabbed his arm and tossed him aside, but strangely, there wasn't any strength behind it. Spiderman couldn't have cared less as to why that was, he simply jumped back into the action with a barrage of punches and a flurry of kicks that all hit their target with no resistance. He walked over to the downed Symbiote and lifted him. Where his hands met the alien, the suit retreated. Whatever.

"This is it for you, Venom" Spiderman spat, "Congratulations on not lasting a single day as my enemy"

Then he bashed Eddie Brock's head on the roof with all the strength he could muster and flung him down into the street. Venom shrieked and shot out webs to stop his fall, but they all broke like dead leaves when Spiderman jumped on him and pushed him to go down faster. Right before Venom hit the street, Peter jumped again, landing safely next to the small crater Venom's fall had formed. The monster screeched obscenities and threats, promises to destroy Spiderman.

But Peter didn't listen. He just continued his onslaught of the man's head, hearing cracks, feeling blood, seeing the suit leave. Leave Brock and come to him.

Yes. Of course it was. Peter had rejected it the day before, but the hate that consumed him now was ever greater than what he had previously felt. It made his past anger seem like a childish tantrum. This was hatred at its purest, at its core. Rage and loathing at unimaginable scales. The Symbiote needed that, all of it. It shuddered in pleasure when it touched him, forgetting all plans to slowly attach itself and just about jumping him, reveling in the scorn, loving it.

And Peter let it sit there, on him. He felt his power rising, overflowing, and used it to completely finish off Brock. He didn't stay to watch. He left the unrecognizable bloody mess in the street and left…

... Spiderman jumped off the Empire state building. That had been five years ago. He was twenty-two. At first, it hadn't registered. The events. It took until after the funerals. His raging emotions had fed the suit extreme prowess. He realized now that he would probably die without it. The human body can only handle so much without breaking. His hate, on its own, could already shatter, never mind the amplification by the Symbiote. And were he to survive another extraction, the Symbiote would take all of his hate with it. Not only would it

completely ruin a life, it would be near unstoppable. It was his duty to keep that from happening.

So Peter kept the suit. Any ideas of ditching it were squandered after he was forced to kill the Hobgoblin. Harry Osborn. He had been the last thing Peter had, and he destroyed his existence with his own hands.

No, there was no going back after Harry.

Spiderman became a feared figure. He was no longer your "Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman". He was like a ghost. Occasionally, he would still try to make a joke or a bad pun, but somehow they all came off sounding threatening. So, mostly he remained silent. In reality, Peter Parker hardly existed. He spent most of his time in his suit.

Spiderman had to protect the city. But Peter had no one to live for. He would sometimes help at Doctor Connors' lab, who knew his secret due to detecting the Symbiote on him. Peter hadn't much cared, really. Curt was a good man. The Doctor himself had been uneasy at first, but he'd gotten used to the new, reserved Peter Parker eventually. He was always a great help, anyway.

J. J Jameson didn't see much of the now-young-man. But his last few drop-by's had left the image of a pale, sleep deprived Parker, and that had even the old grouch worried. But Peter didn't utter more than a few words, and hardly gave enough time to ask if he was alright. Of course, Jameson was aware of what had happened to him a few years back. In fact, he'd gone to the funeral of the three dead women and had embraced the sixteen year old as he wept his heart out. What J.J didn't know was that that had been the last time Peter cried.

Spiderman was mid-swing when he suddenly collapsed on top of an old brick building that gave way under the pressure of his incoming body. He rolled on the dirty floor of a third story, and skidded to a painful stop. Peter didn't bother trying to stand up. He wasn't going anywhere and he knew it. He didn't sleep. It hardly came anyway, and when it did, he was plagued with visions of the past, if he was lucky. On worse nights, the events were transformed and made into something thousands of times more grueling. So Spiderman worked himself dead and rested when his body could take no more and lost consciousness. Which, he knew, was happening to him now. He recognized the buzz in his head, the spasms of his muscles.

No. Spiderman was not who he used to be. Neither was Peter Parker. Together, they fought for what they believed in, an idea as pure as snow and as bright as that moon shining down upon them. Upon him.

They fought for something whiter than white, to keep the others away from what he'd become.

Darker than Black.

Because, after all, he had the power to.

He was responsible for it.

**Hey, guys. I do plan to write more chapters for this story, however it will be some time before any are up. I was desperate to upload this, so I did, but now I will take the time to pre-write a lot of chapters so I can update somewhat regularly. Please bear with me. Hope you enjoyed, don't forget to R &amp; R!**


	2. Lost

_** Here it is, Guys. A little something to hold you on. Hope you enjoy, and as always let me know what you think. **_

When Peter woke up, it was still night time.

No. not _still _night.

It was night _again. _

He must've slept through the whole day. Well, that was fine. He had done so often enough, and there was usually no crime during the daytime, so it wasn't as if he'd missed much of anything. With that out of the way, his stomach suddenly growled loudly, reminding him that as much as he didn't feel like one, he was still human, and still needed to eat.

Sort of.

The Symbiote did a lot of things for Peter, most of which weren't exactly healthy. One of those things was that it completely destroyed any appetite he could have. Even when Peter actually _wanted _to eat, actually getting around to it was a struggle, since there was a chance that it would all come right back up. And after a horrendous round of puking, he'd feel nauseous, strange, and dizzy, rendering just about as useful as an ice cube in a volcano. Given, going long enough without eating would also eventually lead to that, but if it was going to happen either way, why go through the trouble? Plus, it saved time.

And it _hardly_ mattered.

Because Peter _hardly_ ate, anyway.

So, one cup of coffee and a- half - sandwich later, Spiderman was swinging again, thankfully feeling ok. This time, he was going to the one and only Daily Bugle. Heavens knew that if there was one place that more or less relaxed him, it was the old-carpet and stale donut-smelling building. After the incident, all the fellow workers had treaded careful steps with him, but eventually - though admittedly slowly - things just became normal again. In there, he could almost feel like Peter Parker. Even J. Jonah Picklepuss Jameson, what with his Spider bashing, was a relief to be around. He actually hadn't blamed the wall-crawler for the deaths of Peter's loved ones.

And if he thought anything about Eddie Brock's death - _'Murder,'_ Peter corrected - he'd yet to say it.

Of course, Peter never missed the way his boss looked him over, the concern in his eyes that grew more with every time he went in. He hated seeing that look, because he knew he was the cause of it. But he needed the money. And, of course, he had the pictures.

Peter jumped off the top of the building, feeling the suit retreat to show dark trousers and a bare torso, which was quickly covered up by a Symbiote-spun sweater. Once at the entrance to the looming building, Peter sighed deeply, watching his breath curl up in front of him in a delicate swirl, lightly riding on the breeze.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, shivered, and walked in.

Winter was approaching.

…..

John Jonah Jameson was sitting - rather stiffly - behind his desk, pretending to nonchalantly sip black coffee that had long gone cold and keeping an already stubbed cigar in the corner of his mouth. His hair was shot through with more gray than in previous years, but the head of the Daily Bugle didn't much mind.

Didn't much _care, _was more precise.

He didn't care at all. Age wasn't one of the things that worried him. Age had gotten him where was, at the head of the Daily Bugle. It gave him an understanding that he could have never had as kid, as an adult, or even ten years ago. He'd loved, had a child - he mentally cringed at that one - and while he made mistakes - another cringe - he'd learned from them, or at least tried to take away as much as he could

. Yeah, age wasn't one of the things that worried him.

The young man across his desk, however, _was_.

Jameson wasn't sure if it was possible, but Peter was even paler than last time they'd met. And he was so skinny...

Did the kid even eat anymore? The older man knew that Peter was slim by nature, but he also knew that a man of twenty-two years could not look like he barely tipped the scale at 110 pounds and say he was healthy. JJ understood how hard it was to lose someone dear to you, and he could only imagine the trauma of losing just about everyone you cared about. Just losing his own son had been so _fucking _hard. What this boy had gone through he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy

But… could he even say 'but' in this kind of matter? The older man wasn't sure. And he wasn't sure of anything _else _to say either. All kinds of smart remarks, barked orders, and condescending comments came to mind, but he knew he couldn't mean any of them. He wanted to ask the boy if he was alright. Wanted to pat his head or something. Buy him a beer. But how could he?

"I'll take 'em" Jameson finally decided to say, referring to the photographs of Spiderman he currently held.

The pictures were getting worse every time that they were delivered, despite being taken with a good camera. Five years ago, JJ would have still taken them. Back then, Peter, barely seventeen and still in school, had his aunt to support. He would have taken them and added his opinion, likely with a bit - or plenty - of rudeness for good measure. Now, however, he simply accepted them. Even though he really had no headers in mind that could contain the vigilante. He was so low-key these days, there was nothing much to be told about the "menace". What could be said?

"Spiderman Swings Through City: Menace to Birds of New York"?

"Spiderman: Another Bank Saved"?

"No More Super Villains Thanks to Spider Menace"?

No, indeed, there was nothing to be said at all. But still, he asked,"How much do ya want for 'em?" through his cigar.

"I don't really care, JJ," was Peter's response, "One-fifty each sound good?" His words were slow and tired, like he could barely go through the effort of saying them. Not like the words of the youth he was. This only added to his boss's worry.

"Two-fifty you said?" Jameson asked. He hadn't actually misunderstood the boy at all.. But he could afford it. It was the least he could do. "Two-hundred and fifty it is"

Peter looked confused for a moment, then:

"No, no, I said-"

"Parker," JJ suddenly cut him off, a little more harshly than he'd meant to. It was just in his nature. He coughed once, then tried again, on what was hopefully a softer note "_Peter. _Kid, are you alright?"

He wanted to say much more, but damn it, he wasn't any good at this. Of course the kid wasn't alright! That was extremely obvious. He wanted to tell him he understood, that it was ok. He wanted to break into the old-fashioned "they wouldn't want you to be sad" speech, even though he hated hearing it. But this, deep down, was subconscious. All he really knew was that he wanted to help. And that he had no idea how to. So he could do nothing as the boy's surprised look was followed by a quick nod and a quicker farewell. And then he was gone.

Jonah stared blankly at the spot Peter had been in for some long, quiet minutes, before sighing, dumping his coffee and throwing out the stupid cigar, leaning back on his chair and running a hand through his hair. He seriously needed to quit the habit.

No indeed, he was really no good at this. But the boy needed help, dammit…

….

'_What was _that_ about?'_ Spiderman thought mid-flip. Of course, he had been aware of the man's concern, but he had not imagined it was pressing - important - enough for him to ask about…. well, anything except his pictures.

Peter had to admit, over the years he'd come to feel somewhat close to the old Picklepuss. In some ways, he had been a fatherly figure. And as a boss, he'd taught Peter a lot. But he had still been surprised at the man's sudden question. It sent a strange pang through Peter's body, like a brief feeling of warmth washing over him when the cold winds stop blowing, something that the Symbiote simply detested. So obviously, it had been a good thing. A good feeling. Peter would have stayed a little longer, even though he'd still have said he was fine, just to stand in the warmth a moment more. But the Symbiote might have started screeching, and _then _where would he be?

How pathetic. He'd made a decision based on what the stupid alien wanted.

Yeah, things were definitely getting out of hand.

'_No dumb super villains, no petty thugs… Wow, I could go home and- and _what_?'_

He couldn't exactly go home to Aunt May. Or to anyone, for that matter.

Would she know by now? Peter occasionally wondered if she would. It would have been quite a feat to have kept the secret hidden from her for that long. But, considering that it was unlikely he'd still be living with her at his age, maybe it wasn't too far fetched to think she still wouldn't have known who the owner of Spiderman's identity was.

Would that have changed anything? Kept her safe?

No way to know now. But there were some sirens going off, he realized, and quickly headed there. Aunt May's possible what-if fate could wait to be thought through.

It's not like she wasn't already out of time, just like the others.

Just like him.


End file.
